Visit to a black gaybar (1 of 3): We arrive.

The other week I went with my one (British) friend to a black lesbian poetry night at a black gaybar...

The bar is located just south of school, so I took my bike to school, and at the end of the workday, I met him and we cycled down.

The bar is just off this bikepath that I had travelled many times, which I found interesting, since I had heard about the bar forever, and thought it was much farther away in a much worse neighborhood, though on the sidestreet there were a number of people begging, and a junkie asked us for help as we locked up our bikes.

Anyhow, the bar was tucked in on the end of the building and we wandered in - you had to rap on the door since it was locked, and this (black) security guy had to come over and let you in - and stuff wasn't starting for a bit yet, but one of the few (black) women there called someone over, and we paid $5 cover for the poetry night.

"Have yourself a drink and welcome!", she was like, so we pulled up chairs at the bar next to some (butch) (black) women and got ourselves a drink and chatted a bit...

After a bit, a (light-skinned black) woman strolls over, introduces herself as an organizer, and asks us how we're doing.

"I'm [her name]," she was like, and I reached out my hand and shook hers and introduced myself, and she automatically turned to my friend with a big smile and was like, "And who's this piece of handsome?", and after my (British) friend introduced himself, she was just like, "Welcome," and left.

At that point, I noticed that the (black) lesbians were eating chicken wings and fries, so I ask the woman next to me what was up with the food, and she was like, "That's for everyone, let me check if you can have some yet!", and she called over to someone, and they said it was cool, so we went over to this side table where there were three tins, one small one of french fries and 2 big ones of fried chicken wings, and a couple styrofoam containers of BBQ sauce with plastic spoons stuck in them, as well as styrofoam plates and napkins.

When we got back, the (black) lesbian next to us was chatty, and we started talking with her, and she turned out to be a retired cop, who was retired from being in a car accident with someone who drifted into her lane of traffic.

"All those years on the force," she was like, "And that's what gets me out.  My mom said it could have been worse, though, and she was right."

She then talked about how when you went to arrest people or even talk with them, they would yell at you and call you names and sometimes try to spit on you.

"It's like, you try that when you're back at jail and there's no cameras around," she was like.

She also said that crazy shit happened a lot, and once her mother asked her about what happened at work, so she was like, "I'll tell you," and she told her about this guy who when his wife was out of town, would gather his 2 young daughters into the living room, and fuck the cat in front of them, and then one day he got stuck, and while he was all worried, the one daughter went and called the police without him realizing, and the police came.

"My mother was like, '[the cop's name], why did you tell me that? Now I can't sleep tonight,' and I was like, 'But Momma, you asked me!'".

Then, poetry night began...